A year and a half ago, our city’s one bookshop went up for sale. My wife and I bought it. The place had 20,000 books, a good music system that probably played 3,000 hours of Bach per year, and a black cat named Raven. It even had an entire room just for theology and philosophy books. (Steubenville, Ohio, is an unusual town.)
Now we’ve been running the shop for a little while. Experientia docet, said our ancestors. Experience teaches. I prefer Vivaldi to Bach, so you’ll hear more Vivaldi around here now. Raven died and my children are now tending a litter of six kittens, grooming a replacement. And experience has taught us something heartening: Our customers have great taste in books.
Read Full Article »
